


Starless Skies

by buckybleeds



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Poetry, look legitimately this ship hurts me, s u f f e r i n g, these are my emotional support supersoldiers and I need them to have some catharsis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 15:29:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybleeds/pseuds/buckybleeds
Summary: Where'd they take you, sweetheart?Why can't I see the sun these days?





	1. brooklyn I

**Author's Note:**

> I am SAD about steeb and bonky and you get to be sad too.

I’m fine.

I’m _fine_.

I just have a lot of feelings. 

because  
well, imagine it.

*

You’re a raw wound, a scraped knee,   
a tiny bundle of sunshine and fury  
and all the world sees a joke,   
a kitten hissing into a hurricane.

Absurd in its helplessness.

And then somebody isn’t laughing.

Somebody is 

standing  
behind   
\- no -  
beside you

and his mouth is just as full of blood  
and his blood is just as full of glass  
and now when you’re spitting out your teeth  
to make a spear against your enemies  
there’s someone  
beside you

breaking his bones  
to build a shield. 

*

The thing is,  
the thing of it is,  
you can’t stand down the sun.

Maybe you see the shadows in yourself  
Maybe you ignore the shadows on the streets  
Maybe you know the world hurts and your head hurts and your heart hurts  
and because of that you let in the dark,  
which at least hides your wounds.

And you can block out a candle  
You can block out a lightbulb  
You can block out a lantern

But you can’t stand down the sun.

It gives off too much light.  
It burns you clean and shows   
all your rotten spaces.

And seeing them you want to see them better.

So you stand in the sunshine and let it chase away the dark.

And you guard it  
Fiercely  
Because it burns  
But it warms you  
And shows you the you you want to be.


	2. brooklyn II

God  
oh god, oh  
christ, oh fuck it hurts, it hurts oh  
jesus _christ _she -  
I can't -  
oh god what am I gonna do  
I can't -

*

Little steps  
and a little coat  
and little lines  
carved deep  
around big eyes  
that he won't let anyone see  
when they go red and wet

and his hands are too big for him  
his heart is too big for him  
and the hurt scalding him  
is too big for us both

and we, the two of us,  
are good with our hands  
good for a fight  
but there's nothing here to hit  
and it's all I can do to reach out a hand  
because he's falling apart  
and he doesn't have to

I'm good with my hands  
I want so badly  
to put him back together.


	3. brookly III

Maybe it's charity.  
It's hard to tell,  
these days,  
if people share because they, too, know what it's like  
to ache through hungry nights  
or if it's something else.

Maybe it's charity.  
There are some people  
who will always reach out a hand  
to a kicked dog,  
who will always   
have a smoke to spare.

Maybe it's charity.  
And he's beautiful,  
he's so beautiful,  
but he's never cared much for giving  
before -

too rawboned and rangy  
a wolf, guarding its kills for its pack,  
teeth bared against interlopers.

So it's probably not charity.

And maybe he wants something.

And maybe when I wake up  
in the cool gray morning  
in a little room with little windows  
and the soft smell of smoke   
trapped in the weave of my sheets  
and I see the curve of a shoulder  
or the way his hair settles on  
his forehead when he sleeps -

maybe then I want something too.

*

Anybody says different, they're lyin'.

He's mine.

They say he's a pity case,  
a runt,  
a burden,  
another mouth that nobody needs to feed,  
they're lyin'.

He's mine.

They say he's defective,  
a waste,  
should've been drowned like a kitten in a sack,  
no good to nobody -   
they don't know shit.

They don't see  
the hard pale lines  
of his collarbones  
proud against the straps of his vest  
sharp under his skin -

They don't see  
that he's fire  
blue and gold and burning,  
red and white like embers  
ready to consume -

They don't see  
that he's an angel  
that he's the sun.

They say nobody wants him,  
they're lyin'.

Everybody knows  
He's mine.


	4. brooklyn IV

They tell stories  
about the kind of foolish men  
who fall in love with their own works of art

And  
that's not what I did  
but I love the dark eyes and full mouth  
that pours over my paper

and I'm no less foolish.

He clings to me  
like chalkdust  
like graphite  
like charcoal  
like the tiny pinpricks of paint  
worn so deep into my fingers  
that they'll never get washed away.

Everywhere I go  
is full of him  
and the ways I make him  
and the ways I love him.

If I were to drop my papers  
everyone would see  
his face would scatter on the street  
like a deck of cards sprayed from a clumsy shuffle.

And I might be afraid of a mistake like that  
but it wouldn't be news.

Everywhere I go  
is full of him.

He burns inside me.  
I can't hide it.

You can't cover the sun with a tea towel.

It's foolish to try.

*

The little ratfuck punk  
has a mouth like a whore  
and knows it

And if he smiles  
around his tongue  
it's all I can see

And if he sucks in  
a startled breath  
because my teeth are sharp  
and full of him  
it's the only sound I want

And they say it's perverted  
and inverted  
and criminal  
and sinful  
and wrong

to want like this

but all I can feel

is holy fire in my bones  
whispering that I'd burn down the whole world  
to keep this boy warm


End file.
